


Heathers: The College Years

by GlassGeorgeGlass



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, College, F/M, Fraternities & Sororities, Government Agencies, Heathers 2: The Legacy, JD Lives, JD is kind of a hottter non amnesia Bourne now, Jason Dean is back from the dead, The Sigmas and all greek names are totally random, Veronica is the best journalism major ever, Veronica of course joined the greeks, What a studio would call it, mash up of two ideas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27852290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassGeorgeGlass/pseuds/GlassGeorgeGlass
Summary: Veronica Sawyer thought joining a sorority would be good for her. Sisterhood they said. No more mean girl in fighting and cliques. Now she's caught up in it all over again. Being older and wiser will help, right? Doesn't help when her not so dead ex-boyfriend shows up reeking havoc to her life and her heart. Jason Dean didn't die in 1989. He was instead recruited to a special agency due to his skill set and lack of moral compunction. What happens when he goes rogue and tracks his old girlfriend down? He is no longer the cocky hair trigger violence junky and Veronica is no longer the same teenage girl.
Relationships: Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 34
Kudos: 26





	1. Initiations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chxrryb0mb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chxrryb0mb/gifts), [cemeterydriive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemeterydriive/gifts).



> Welcome. I am posting this teaser prologue for now. The first chapter will likely come after Christmas I was just curious as to what people might think of this plot. This plot I have already jutted down 30 pages of. Basically, it's Heathers but with sororities and JD was recruited to be a government assassin but now he's rogue.
> 
> And the title might be temporary. Basically just a reference to Saved By the Bell or 90210 or anything when they graduated to college stories, lol. Some other characters might show up again and I'll definitely get more tags as soon as I get home and think of them.
> 
> For ChxrryB0mb who's awesome and does good work. I hope this might be up your alley. :P

JD turned to her, whose face was unreadable, her hand over her stomach staring at the bomb he had strapped to his chest. 

“Let’s pretend I blew up the school. All the schools. Now that you're dead, what are you gonna do with your life?” He asked Veronica Sawyer-- pretty, smart, sophisticated, out of his league Veronica Sawyer-- as he bled his guts out in front of her with his homemade bomb strapped to his chest ready to say sayonara to the sick sad world.

She had done that. She had shot him. She had power. She was even more magnificent than he realized. He could live to be a thousand and never meet another girl as amazing. Of course, he wasn’t living to a thousand. Jason Dean was going to be dead at seventeen. 

_Live hard, die young, leave a pretty corpse._

_It’s better to burn out, than to fade away._

Take your pick. Resolving herself she took a cigarette out and waited.

_Bitch was gonna light her cigarette on the flame of my corpse. That’s punk rock._

He nodded, respecting it. He outstretched his arms in an over the top manner to emulate Christ on the cross and waited for the bomb to take him away like Calgon.

Except it didn’t. He glanced down at the stuck timer. He glanced up and saw that it got a small laugh out of her. He hit it until it started again and resumed his pose.

At least he got to die looking at the most beautiful thing in this w-

_Boom._

_“You switched the bomb out, right? Did you get him?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“No one’s the wiser? They think he committed suicide?”_

JD blinked, the voices gave him a headache. What happened to him? He remembered the bomb, Veronica staring at him. _Oh God,_ _this must be hell._ He groaned. He had hoped there’d be more pirates and rock stars. Like an ACDC album cover. A light flashed in his eyes.

“Get him into ICU. Stat.” A male voice ordered. _Doctor? There are doctors in hell?_

“Do you have his file?” A female voice asked.

“Yes. Jason Dean. He’ll fit perfectly into the new program. His personality is perfectly suited for our needs.”

“Excellent.” JD suddenly realized this wasn’t hell. He opened his eyes barely taking in the images of the white coats and the sterile room.

“Well, Mr. Dean’s parents would be proud if they knew. This young man just got a full ride scholarship to the most prestigious government sponsored post high school program offered by the US of A."

He felt a pin prick in his arm and a moment later he was asleep.

* * *

Veronica Sawyer stood in the circle with a long white dress. The chanting echoed through her head. _The chanting, the chanting._ All around her were other women similarly dressed, all chanting and holding hands. The bonfire in the middle of the room had twenty candles around it. One for each girl.

The chanting was in Latin, that much she had remembered from her vague memories of high school language. In the center of the room was one blonde girl oozing beauty, youth, and self confidence. She had on a dark hooded robe with foreign letters etched into it. She looked on at the other girls and held up her hands in silence.

“One by one we sip from the cup.”

 _“One by one we sip from the cup,”_ they all repeated back.

“One by one we give ourselves to the center.”

_“One by one we give ourselves to the center.”_

She watched in fear and trepidation as each girl in the circle was handed the chalice and took a sip. “Before this I was one, now I am many,” each girl recited with the sip of the chalice.

Then it was handed to her. Veronica stared at it. She glanced at the open fire in the middle of the room, and weighed her options. There was nowhere to run to now. In for a penny, in for a pound. She drank out of the cup and repeated the phrase, “before this I was one, now I am many.” She passed it to the next girl. It tasted bitter and was red.

She was then handed a candle. This was it. There was no going back now. She was one of them. She was one of their circle. Each girl walked up to the flame in the center and lit their candle. The chanting began again.

When it was over, the one in the dark hooded robe-- their leader-- stood before them and took the hood down. “Each of you are now members of the Sigma Sigma Deltas! Welcome to the sisterhood!” She squealed. “Wooo!” In an instant the spell was broken, the fire extinguished, the lights on and the robes of the older girls tossed away. “First order of business for the newest members?” She motioned to her second in command.

“Shots!” All the girls immediately let loose and keg cups were passed around, and the music came pumping in. “Jenny? Get the cake and the cookies out! It’s their first party at the Sigma house!”

 _Pump up the jam, pump it up, are we in it…_ blasted out of an unseen juke box signaling the dance party's beginning.

Veronica stood very still and breathed in deep. In and out. In and out.

What the hell had she just done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to preface this story that my knowledge of Greek life consists of TV, movies, and the fact that a friend of mine told me they pledged but dropped out when she found out how much dues are yearly and realized she couldn't afford it so... liberties are taken. I know people who looooved their sorority get super defensive about that but, like, it's a story. And I only went to public commuter colleges where the only greek stuff was, like, the academic and trade ones and I never went to a frat party and think the whole thing sounds super dumb.
> 
> I'm really sad I never went to a frat party at least once. Oh well.
> 
> There's also a lot of good sexy bits coming up I'm actually super proud of? And a good Veronica seducing JD bit? Maybe? Okay, that's it.
> 
> Intrigued? Not? Let me know in the comments.


	2. Eric and Becky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet back up with Veronica in college and someone fills up a gas tank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wrote this. I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this. And I'm still debating just deleting it. But, well, if it sucks...? I dunno.

**1990**

**Monroe College**

**California**

**Fall: Freshman Year**

Veronica was wandering through the quad almost four weeks after arriving at Monroe. Four whole weeks and she still hadn’t really made any friends, or even acquaintances. Once or twice she got into a great conversation with a girl or boy after class, in the dorm, or in the dining hall and thought she may have made a friend. Only when she tried to say hi and strike up another conversation with them upon a second meeting they’d uncomfortably avoid her and she’d realize they already had a group or cool friends to sit with and had no interest in really being friends with her. Veronica knew how to take a hint, she didn’t try a third time. 

She would hear about fun parties or gatherings of course… after they happened. She was starting to feel like she was missing out. College was a social and life experience as well as an educational one, her parents had told her… and after nearly a month she was failing miserably at the social experience of it all.

Veronica didn’t get it. _You had at one point been a part of the haughtiest clique in all of Westerberg High, how are you unable to get a single invite to go get a coffee at the dining hall or have someone to sit next to at the very least?_ She didn’t want a repeat of high school, that was for sure, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to.

God, she had really believed college would be different— a utopia where people could wander in and out of social groups and be friends. But it wasn’t. Finding her way around the winding and large campus was confusing. Between dealing with a roommate in a room smaller than her one at her parent’s, making sure she got to the dining hall in the morning before all the good cereal was out, and professors who refused to deal with anyone outside of their ludicrously short office hours… she was a mess.

A part of her wanted to drop out. Move home. Get a job at the grocery store and just embrace life in Sherwood as a high school graduate townie. 

But her parents would never allow it. More importantly, she would never allow it. Going back to Sherwood also meant the possibility of running into Heather Chandler’s parents. Ram’s dad. Kurt’s little sister. Not to mention JD’s spectre, always walking two paces behind her, reminding her like some two bit James Bond villain, “you and I are not so different.” 

She could never go back to living in Sherwood. Not after what she did junior year. What they did. Choosing a school in California was a large part of her plan to get as far away as possible. A socially acceptable form of running away from home. She had this whole freshman year to figure out a summer job away from Sherwood, and four years to figure out where to move so that she’d never have to face those ghosts again.

The dreams were bad enough without the visceral real world reminders. In her dreams JD would be holding her from behind, gun in hand like he was the coolest guy in the world, and the corpses of their three victims in front of them. She always awoke in cold fear, gasping for air, sitting up, and gulping water since her body was suddenly desperate for hydration. Julie saw this sometimes. She’d eye her like she was crazy and roll her eyes at the scene.

She’d overheard her on the phone the other day when she’d gotten back from class with her dinner— not wanting to sit in the dining area alone in front of everyone— and she’d left the door open. Veronica sighed realizing she was in, she could smell the clove she was smoking from down the hall.

“Everything’s fine. Roommate’s a bit of a freak though. Never leaves the room except for class. Tried to tag along a couple of times when I was going out like some kind of desperate loser. And the worst? She wakes up at all hours of the night freaked out. Real mental case nut. Can’t wait until next semester to put in my room change request.” Veronica sighed, and didn’t go in, opting instead to eat in the common room pretending to watch TV with some of the nerds who were watching _Star Trek: The Next Generation._

Her mother would call— and her father would get on the line for a few minutes— and she’d lie and say things were fine, but then get mum on the whole, “so… did you make any friends yet?” part of the conversation. Veronica would make up some excuses or avoid answering and her mother finally told her the other day, “Well, honey, just wait until rush week. Pledge a house. I was in a sorority back in my day and I’m still friends with a lot of those girls. Once you’re in you’ll be too busy to think about much else.” 

Veronica Sawyer? A sorority girl? _Are you for real, mom? Girls in white dresses pledging their virginity to some frat guy who do keg stands and slam beer cans against their heads? Gross._

She of course didn’t tell her mother that. She merely made a non-committal, “yeah, we’ll see.”

Veronica Sawyer was way too cool for all that Greek shit anyway. And she had had her fill of girl cliques in high school. Then the separations began. Kids in certain programs instinctively became their own groups. True, it was much more diverse and larger than in high school— and with less interaction and animosity between them— but it amazed her at how quickly it had begun. And how quickly she had been left out.

A vague whisper slipped through her ear, the voice of her seventeen year old self: Heather Chandler would have totally run a sorority had she made it out of high school. She told Heather’s ghost to go away. She had to remind herself: guilt won’t bring them back. 

_Nor would it bring back JD._

_Shut up inner voice!_

Her feelings on his death remained in a lockbox inside her heart pushed back as far as possible and hesitantly avoided being unboxed. Jason Dean was gone and there was no bringing him back either. She had shot him and he blew himself up. He was going to kill himself anyway all you did was make sure he didn’t take you and the rest of the school down with you.

Yet. 

Yet. 

In the moments now in her dorm room when her roommate was out at some party or mixer— ones that Julia didn’t think to invite Veronica along for— she would think of him. She’d think of the smirk on his face as he sat in the back of the cafeteria removed from everyone eying just her. She’d think of the thrill and excitement of playing strip croquet with him in her backyard as her parents slept, thinking she was in control of the whole situation. She’d remember his smile, the few times with her it had been genuine and lit her heart-

_Murderer. Liar. Psycho. Lover._

He was all those things all at once, wasn’t he? Fuck if she knew.

That was her state of mind when she saw the sign ups for rush week. She only went by because she heard there was some free food and she had time to kill in between her classes. It was all amazing though. Fraternities on one side, sororities on the other. Many of the “hipper than thous” rolled their eyes and walked past and Veronica knew she should too. She was cooler than this. Cooler than them. She learned in high school the hard way that separating into little groups like this only led to pain.

But they also had free cookies. “Hey, are you gonna pledge?” A girl with blond curls at one of the tables asked, passing her a flier. Veronica nearly had a heart attack. In another timeline and another life the girl could have-- should have?-- been Heather Chandler. It wasn’t just her looks or clothes. It was the same demeanor, the way people gravitated to her so naturally and just as easily she would learn could get caught in her web. So much like Heather Chandler Veronica thought maybe it was a ghost. It wasn’t. It was Kimberly Mathews, sophomore and treasurer of the Sigmas. 

Blinking back the shock and realizing it wasn’t the resurrected corpse of her best friend slash worst enemy she took the flier. “Sorority life?” She asked, certain it was not for her. Veronica was dressed in a dark pair of pants, a white long sleeved top and an ever so cool vest with a black hat. She was above things like sororities, right? 

“Oh, don’t let all the school and alumni paraphernalia get to you. All the Greek letters and mottos are just window dressing. It’s a sisterhood in all that entails. Also, love the boots by the way.” Veronica smiled, she never hated a compliment that was for sure. “Look, we hang out, we party, we do some events and charity stuff and for the most part it’s super fun and exciting. At the risk of sounding like a business management major it’s also good for networking. Five years from now you tell someone you were a Sigma and if they were too it’s like an instant connect. Also, we’re paired with the Alpha’s over there,” she pointed to a group of guys at a table. All of them were good looking— to Veronica’s surprise— but not in a football player jock kind of way. “There’s the Deltas and the Kappas and all them,” she continued dismissively pointing to a few tables where most of the students were clamoring. “They’re the real snobs. Daddy has to have a summer home by the lake to get in,” she said mockingly. “But we’re really fun. I definitely think your prime Sigma material. Come by the welcome party tonight. I’ll keep an eye out for you.” Veronica took the flier and the cookie with welcome. She had only started the school year three weeks ago and she was still so lost. She had thought a fresh start where no one knew her was the best thing for her in light of the death and destruction of Westerberg High but the truth was… she was lonely.

And the idea of being instant friends with the girls at the Sigma table held some appeal to her. She glanced at the table of the “elite” sororities. Those were the Heathers of the school, right? Veronica then glanced back at the Sigma table. And hanging out with guys like that? Well, they were all clean cut and as far from her ex rebel without a clue she could get which is exactly what she wanted.

Oh whatever, I'll go to the open house tonight just for something to do. I won’t go crazy with it.

Veronica took extra care getting dressed that night for the party, not really sure why. Maybe it was just the prospect of having somewhere to go. Julie— the kind of roommate only a college dorm situation could pair someone up with— was watching her carefully as she was getting ready, pretending to be reading the latest issue of Sassy magazine. “Are you actually going out for once?” She asked casually but laced with amusement.

“Yes,” Veronica said, trying not to get into it. They had been cordial the first day they met unsure of each other but by the end of the second week it was pretty clear they were never going to be besties or even tolerate each other's company. Julia was in the film program and was interested in making films— not movies, but films— smoked clove cigarettes— in their room, yuck— and had decided to stay pretty solidly in that very special clique of art school pretentious types that bored Veronica to tears and after three glasses of two buck chuck hardly sounded anymore intelligent than your average jock did.

“Oh that’s right,” she laughed derisively. She sat up and grabbed one of her cloves and lit it up, taking a long drag— yuck— and turning on her lamp with the red scarf over it. “It’s rush week. I saw the flier on your night stand. Are you really going to pledge your soul to those mindless prep drones? That desperate?” She drawled, her voice dripping with condescension. Veronica was done with her bullshit and ready to take back a lot of her life. Step one was walking over and opening the window to try and mitigate the smell out of their room.

“Be careful,” Veronica bit back, through with being anyone’s punching bag and suddenly felt the surge of confidence she had so easily had in high school flood back to her. “Ever hear the story about the roommate who switches your birth control for baby aspirin?” She retorted, finding some of the old Veronica slide back in as she applied the last coat of lipstick. 

Julia stared at her in shock. Veronica smirked, hoping she’d dive for her round case the second she left. Veronica grabbed her purse and tossed it over her shoulder feeling good for the first time in weeks. Julie tried to suppress it but coughed on her thick flavored smoke. “God, just by some menthols. By-ye,” she waved as she waltzed out.

Veronica could feel life return to her as she made her way to the ginormous Greek Row on campus. When she had visited before graduation she had been shown it briefly on the tour but had never been really told how big greek life really was on campus. They had a house for each frat and sorority and they were like mini mansions dotting a road a bit away from the regular student housing. Veronica’s eyes widened. The entire road was lit.

Every house was overflowing with students coming in and out of the welcome parties. This was nothing like the small dorm or student house parties at dinky ol’ Remington back in Ohio, this was a full blown block party with how many people running around. Veronica debated stepping into the other sorority houses just to check them out but she remembered the instinctive pull to Kimberly she had felt and eventually found her way to the Sigma house. 

It wasn’t quite the towering mansion as the more “prestigious” and sought after sororities but it wasn’t unimpressive. As she walked in she was floored at the large open porch and mansion set up to house the members of their group and hold their meetings and gatherings. A lot of other girls were surrounding her— freshmen like her— as they made their way in, grabbing the welcome packets and information at the tables. 

“Hey! Pledging Sig?” A bubbly girl with red permed hair asked in a Sigma t-shirt and shorts. She handed her the info packet. Veronica barely had time to say anything when she saw the girl from earlier. She waved and rushed over to her. It has been so long since anyone waved and rushed over to me at a party, Veronica realized, not acknowledging how pathetic that sounded.

“Hey! Girl with the killer boots! So glad you’re here!” She rushed over and took her arm like they’d been besties all her life. “God, most of these girls are just so… ugh, you know?” She told her quietly. Veronica laughed, not realizing what she had really meant but so glad to not be one of the girls not liked. “Veronica right? I’m Kim. I told you I was Kim, didn’t I?” Veronica laughed. She imagined a world very easily where the two of them could be good friends.

“Yeah. And They totally don’t tell you that much about all of this on the campus tour,” Veronica told her, still utterly blown away by it all. It was just so… normal. And full of life.

“Yeah, we really do have some killer parties here. But, you know, we do good work too. Last year we raised a ton of money for cancer research. This year we are planning a fun run for that too. It’s a lot to plan, I’m thinking whomever ends up making it this year could totally help me.” Like me. She means me. Veronica tried to contain herself. 

This was different, she just knew it. Real friends taking care of each other. 

Over the course of pledge week she found herself increasingly more loved and welcomed into the Sigma fold. They loved her hair, her clothes. They laughed at their jokes and made plans for movie nights and magazine reading sessions.

When hell week began in earnest there was nothing more hazing than a few embarrassing pranks, cleaning the house, and wearing some silly outfits around campus with her hair a mess. Nothing too crazy. The only scary part was when she was woken up at 2 AM and hauled into a van in her pajamas. They drove her and a few other girls out to a field where they had them march out, cold and scared. Then they burst into laughter, told the girls to get back in the van and they all went to Denny’s for a late night breakfast to be told they had all made it in. Immediately the girls were relieved and knew they were all legit friends. 

When she told her mothers the next day she was accepted into the Sigma’s she was over the moon. “Oh, this is just going to ensure the rest of your college time will be well spent honey. Those girls will really take care of you, I promise. My sisters became like family to me.” And in that moment she was all in with what her mother thought too. They were going to really take care of each other at the Sigma Sigma Delta house. She was going to leave the hell of her junior year of high school in the dust and embrace a future. That was the ticket.

Then why did she feel so uneasy the night of the initiation when she found herself in robes, lighting candles, and sipping from a chalice? She took a sip of the cranberry vodka Kim gave her at the initiation dance party, smiled, squealed “Wooo!” and joined them. It was all so simple at the beginning.

* * *

**1992**

**Monroe College**

**California**

**Fall: Junior Year**

Veronica Sawyer meandered from her dorm building to Tucker Hall where her creative fiction followed by creative nonfiction courses were being taught. She checked her side bag— the one her Sigma Sigma Delta pin was affixed to— to make sure she had all the books she needed. She counted all three of her marble notebooks— other kids made fun but she just couldn’t let go of the cursive writing marble bound books— and her notes for her meeting with the editor of the school newspaper: The Monroe Beat.

She was in her junior year at Monroe and she had settled into her college life in the same way she had settled into her junior year at high school: acing the classes, pleasing the administration, and making herself miserable with her social circle. 

Namely this sorority she was a part of: Sigma Sigma Delta. She looked back at everything they had told her back in her freshman year and laughed. They had told her she could check in and out and participate at her own pleasure but like most sales pitches she realized the reality was different than the fantasy.

Cut to three years later and she was knee deep in the entire life the Sigmas offered. Sisterhood. _Ha._

If it were a movie some forty five year old male executive would call it _Heathers 2: The Legacies_. She was currently trying her hardest to stay only away from it as much as she could at the moment. Kimberly— who egraciated herself as Veronica’s big sister and best friend pretty quickly— was now president and ruled over the Sigmas with an iron fist. She had risen to the presidency last year and ever since she had personally taken responsibility towards her to make her in her inner circle. It turned out Kimberly never got over not getting into the Deltas or the Kappas. Sigma was seen as mid-tier amongst the houses on sorority row and that never suited her.

Her mission? To raise the Sigma’s profile from mid to top. She strictly controlled who was let in and not, out talking the other sisters on pledge week, personally recruiting-- Veronica realized she was just as part of it-- and making sure their parties were the “it” parties to be seen at.

Sisterhood. That’s what Veronica had thought she’d been engaging in. _Sisterhood my ass._

“Ver-on-ica!” She heard the high pitch squeal of Kim echo as she tried to grab a Snickers and Diet Coke from the vending machine, about twenty minutes before her class started. Her stomach plummeted. Here we go.

“Kim,” Veronica said, trying not to give away her disappointment of seeing her. It was strange. She thought at the beginning they would be such good friends and in a lot of ways they were. Over the last three years they have had so many nice moments. She thought to the picture of the two of them from last year posed together with their arms around each other in their Sigma shirts and tennis racket and skirts having come in second at the charity tennis doubles game they had played laughing at how much fun they were having.

She liked that Kim. This Kim though in front of her had a copy of The Monroe Beat in her hand and was red with fury. “Veronica. Really. Where have you been the last two days?” She asked, huffy. Kim hated that Veronica hadn’t invested in a beeper like the rest of the girls had and therefore wasn’t always reachable.

What she failed to understand is that Veronica hated “always being reachable” and had not gotten that beeper purposefully. Well, that and the fact that when she asked her father if she could borrow the money for one— using the excuse so that they could always reach her— he glared at her and told her, “Veronica, only drug dealers and doctors need beepers. Since you insisted on majoring in journalism— with minors in history and literature of all impractical things— and refused to become pre-med and I’m going to assume you asking me for money means you’re not dealing drugs therefore I see no need for a 21 year old to have a beeper.”

“I’ve been around Kim,” Veronica told her, hesitating. “Sorry, I told you I’m taking five classes this semester and still doing 28 hours at the library as well as getting the leg up on my portfolio.” She didn’t mention the book she was writing. Veronica felt odd bringing it up to Kim. “I’m just saying, it’s a lot on my plate right now.”

She glared at her. Kim thought her student worker job was a waste of time. Student worker jobs were for the scholarship and super poor kids. And while Veronica’s family could help her out— the fact that she actually was on an academic scholarship notwithstanding to Kim— all the hidden fees incurred to her belonging to this sorority meant she had to earn some income to help keep her afloat in school. Not for the first time did Veronica wish she had chosen a less isolated college town to go to school in. The only businesses around the school refused to hire any college students— they hated training someone just so that they would leave during breaks— and that really only left student working jobs available to her. She liked working at the library but the pay was minimal and the hours limited by school regulations. It only supplemented her income so much.

“Well, regardless. I just wanted to know if you had seen the latest from the trashy rag this school dares call a student newspaper?” She slapped a copy of the free ten page paper in her hand and Veronica sighed. She knew what had Kim so upset.

The Greek Tattler. The Greek Tattler was an anonymous column in the bi-weekly paper. She— some people thought it was a “he” posing as a she but the way she talked made most assume it was a she— had a column that talked frankly and honestly about life in the Greek World at Monroe. She’d offer up sarcastic side bars, gossip, and hilarious anecdotes inside the ever-so-secret world of the mysterious to the other students Greek Life with an honest attitude. Underneath it all she made clear her harsh critiques and brutal truths— all acknowledging that she had no intention of quitting anytime soon.

“What’s in the column today?” Veronica asked, wondering exactly which grain of truth Kim couldn’t take this week. Everyone in the Greek life scene of course hated the Tattler and was on the verge of a witch hunt to figure out who it was. People would cry that she wasn’t giving them all a fair shake, painting them all with the same brush, or highlighting their charity work enough. Mostly as Veronica saw it they hated mostly that she was ratting them out and spilling the secrets to the outside world and shining a light where they didn’t want a light shown. Kim knew Veronica didn’t hate it as much as the rest of them did, which only irritated her.

“Uh, maybe you should try and be pissed? I think you’re the “V” being mentioned.” Veronica chuckled and scanned the column. The Tattler never named names so of course most of the gossip was around trying to deduce exactly who the rumors and gossip was about.

“Meanwhile in the Sigma Sigma Delta world poor little V is trapped in an endless round of breaking up and dating B from the Alphas. God forbid she realizes there’s more to the dating life at Monroe than her brother sorority. They love to tell you that you aren’t bound to dating just the related frat but god forbid you ever do…” She laughed. “Kim, she could be talking about anyone.”

“It’s just you and Vicky who are “V’s” in Sigma. And Vicky is dating Jim. She’s clearly talking about you and Brad.” Veronica sighed. Brad. She really didn’t want to think or talk about Brad right now. She really wanted to just focus on her writing samples. After classes she had a meeting with her advisor to get her work up to snuff. Internship season was upon them and she was desperate for something good for the summer. Following that she had to be in the newspaper office to attend a staff meeting.

“So what if it is? It’s not an untrue statement. Or hell, what you all love to gossip about.” She popped the tab open on her Diet Coke and began walking towards her classroom.

“Veronica, it is one thing to gossip amongst ourselves behind our closed doors, but quite another to publish it for everyone to read. You work for this trashy tabloid, you seriously have no idea who this little traitor is?” Veronica rolled her eyes. She had been through this before. “I’m really worried she’s a Sig. Do you have any idea what that could do to our standing if anyone found out it was one of us?” Veronica was really not in the mood.

“I’ve told you a thousand times. None of us know. It’s an anonymous column. Her pages appear in the editor’s mailbox each week— or so we’re told— and he refuses to reveal his source. You’d think he’s Bob Woodward protecting Deep Throat,” she added even though she rather uncharitably didn’t think Kim understood that reference, “the way he carries on about it.”

“I’m sorry. I know,” she said, honestly sounding apologetic. “I know you’d tell me any info if you had it.” Veronica blanched at that. Would I? They stopped outside the classroom. She still had a few minutes. Professor Alden walked in just as she got to the door. 

“Hey Veronica,” she told her. “Looking forward to your reading in class today.” Veronica smiled. She loved Professor Alden. She was her advisor both academically and for the newspaper. One of those Mr. Chips types that really actively helped her students. 

“Thanks professor. I hope you like it.” The professor nodded and walked in. “Look, Kim. I know I haven’t been around much,” she admitted, feeling guilty suddenly. Kim was her friend. Stop being a mega bitch. Yes, she could be a pill sometimes but they were still friends. “I’ll come by the house tonight. You can update me on everything I missed. We can call up for a pizza?” Veronica offered. As much as she hated to admit it, she loved ordering pizzas at the Sigma house. The local place loved delivering to the sorority row. They always sent the young cute guy to deliver. Kim loved teasing him by answering the door in her robe and night clothes and making double entendres. They’d joke about how he should join them to fluster him. It always made Veronica laugh. She loved when Kim was like that. Not when she was in president mode witch hunting a school newspaper columnist. 

“Yes. That would be great. We’ll make a list and try to eliminate the possibilities. It’s just between that and pledge week starting soon… gah. I could really use your help with that as well. We’re upping the stakes and being much more discrete this year of who we let it,” she whispered the last part. Veronica tensed. It wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. 

And pledge week. Veronica was in no mood to deal with the annual week of judging girls for prospective sisters based on superficial absurdities. But Veronica told her she’d be by at six nonetheless and entered her classroom. She breathed easier. She always felt more comfortable in her writing classes and the newspaper— away from Sigma— where she could be more like herself.

Professor Alden sat at the desk. “Okay, is everyone here…?” She said eying the assembled students for attendance. Alan Parker, a tall and slightly bigger guy, rushed in. He was carrying a coat and bag. He was always late and always on the verge of falling apart. “And there’s Alan just in time,” Professor quipped. The class laughed and Alan bowed, taking it good natured. “So, today we will start with our recitation of the day.” There were a couple of groans. “Yes, I know… it’s like being back in high school embarrassing yourself with your personal pieces all over again. Laying your souls bare so that your peers can pick them apart. I’m truly evil. I know. After that we’ll get started on a brief lecture, and practice pitching some ideas, okay?” They all settled in. “Today’s victim is Miss Veronica Sawyer.” She stood, and sucked up her nerve. She never minded reciting in general, but today she was planning on reading something… different. Something fictitious in nature but still very personal.

She got up, coughed, and went to the podium. “So, this is a piece from a book I’ve been working on. Going for a post-modern anti-YA high school story.” The eyes of her fellow students bore into her. She began to read. 

“ _Eric and Becky were in his house watching TV. His arm was around her posessively and he absently stroked his fingers up and down her neck. She barely could feel it though as she was staring at the TV agape. He was staring at her, staring at the TV. She was indignant. Indignant, but still loving the possessive way he held her._

_How dare they._

_How dare they twist and manufacture this tragedy to conveniently suit their narrative, she thought. To make it palatable on the five o’clock news. Keep the other parents from getting too scared. He switched the TV off, just as confused as she was. Confused, but not as disgusted._

_“That’s all it takes? Kill yourself and you become the most popular girl in school?” He joked._

_“Scary stuff,” she agreed, still dazed by the whole experience._

_“The door banged open and instantly she pulled away from her boyfriend. A parent was home and she instinctively felt like she’d get in trouble for being caught with him like that even though they were just watching TV and not in a more intimate position. A man entered the room— her boyfriend’s father— and the entire room’s temperature fell with it. The boy next to her changed too. No longer was he the slick, cool, hunky badass that had intoxicated her thoughts the last few days, she suddenly realized that like her— he was a teenager. With a father he lived with. It only took this first conversation for her to realize this man was no Ward Cleaver._

_“‘Hey son, didn’t hear you come in,” her boyfriend drawled to his father. She blanched, confused by the dialogue exchange. Suddenly feeling every inch an outsider in someone else’s domestic space._

_“Hey Dad. How was work today?” His father responded. She felt nervous, uneasy at the tone of the room, the way they talked to each other made her uncomfortable. She had been raised by nice people in a nice town. A mother and a father, a little distant, but understanding of their place in the nuclear family structure. All her friends came from similar worlds. There was something intensely different with their relationship she realized from this meeting._

_Something off, something rotten._

_One could describe them more like roommates than a middle aged man and his teenage son and she the intruder. She remembered the few nibbles of information he’d dropped to her about his home life prior. About how toxic his father was and no mention of a mother. Now meeting the man in the flesh was starting to click for her: this was not the natural teenage rebellion of a son disliking his father. He may actually be justified in his disdain for the man._

_His father broke the dynamic. “Work was lousy.” He still hadn’t acknowledged her presence in the home with them. “Fucking protesters. Can’t tear down this shitty motel because JFK once glanced at it on the campaign trail. Just like Kansas. Remember fucking Kansas?' Her boyfriend stared at her, as if to say, ‘hey, wasn’t exaggerating, right?’_

_“Yeah, that was the one with the wheat, right?” He told his father, slipping his hand in hers. He meant it as a dig to the constant moving. Everything he ever said to his father was a constant dig, whether the older man realized it or not. She didn’t know what to do, she just looked back and forth between them, uncomfortable._

_The older man got on the treadmill in the house— the only thing not in a box— and started it up. "’Save The Memorial Oak Tree" Society...'” He laughed, making her skin crawl. His eyes narrowed. “Showed those fucks.”_

_Eric glanced at her, furthering his point about his life. “Everybody's life's got static,” he’d told her the other night at the gas station. She understood where the signal came from. “Thirty of those 4th of July fireworks attached to the trunk... Arraigned, but acquitted.” Eric rolled his eyes out of view of his father and Becky tried to smile like the polite well-mannered in front of the adult girl she was raised to be. He stared at her, finally acknowledging the strange girl in the living room. His father sighed and prompted the teenage boy. “Gosh, pop, I almost forgot to introduce my girlfriend.”_

_He relented to the game his father insisted on playing. “Becky, this is my dad. Dad.. Becky.” She smiled and tried to reach her hand out to shake her boyfriend’s father’s as best as she could but he wasn’t playing the game of civilized company._

_Eric continued the charade anyway even as his father continued using the treadmill as if the two of them weren’t there. “Son, why don't you ask your little friend to stay for dinner?” Becky had had enough of the awkwardness and wanted to desperately run back to the normalcy of her own house._

_“Sorry, I, um- I can't.” He looked at her disappointed she was leaving. “My mom's making my favorite meal tonight, Spaghetti.. lots of oregano.”_

_Eric chuckled derisively. “How nice. Last time I saw my mom, she was waving from a library window, in Texas. Right dad?” Veronica blinked, no idea where that had come from. It was the first time he’d even mentioned his mother since they met._

_She wasn’t stupid, this was not about her, this friction that engulfed the room. The way Eric stared into the back of his father’s head spoke volumes more than the actual words he'd said._

_His father stopped the machine and eyed the teenager back. He was well aware of whatever game they were playing, the backward talk having ended. “Right, son.”_

_Becky was in over her head, swimming the waters of a complex relationship she had no idea if she even wanted to learn. Without thinking she added, “Right.” She stared back and forth at the pair one last time before motoring home as quickly as she could._

Veronica finished and waited. This was the worst part of recitation. The waiting to see what her overly critical peers thought. So often in fiction writing every idea was shot down as “trite” or “stupid” or “hacky.” So many voices trying to tear others down always upset her. And it was just, this was a part of a book she had recently started to write. Something honest. Personal. Something that really drew on her experience in high school, all the pain, trauma, and violence. Partially as a way of working her own feelings out, but also because she knew it would make a damn good story. And Veronica Sawyer was owed a best seller.

“Think of that deepness at the last Alpha kegger, Veronica?” Alan quipped, breaking the silence. “Whilst on and off with B?” He added, with a chuckle, reminding them all of the Tattler column. A few others sniggered to that. Veronica’s cheeks burned and she sat down. What had I been thinking? Why did I share this piece with this audience? It wasn’t nearly ready.

“Hey! Not necessary If you want to critique the writing do that. We’re not here to critique the writer,” the professor chastised. Alan actually looked apologetic. “What clubs, activities, and groups Ms. Sawyer participates in are not up for your criticism. As far as the piece goes, whilst it does lend itself a bit to the maudlin I liked the imagery. I could really see this guy you were talking about. It felt real. And I liked the way you described the uncomfortableness of him and his father and what it’s like to be in that situation. I want to read more of this.”

A hand went up. It was Jenny. She was a bit mousey, and spoke in a timid and quiet voice. “Yes, Jenny?”

She coughed. “I, um, I liked-” There was a slight groan from the other students. They couldn’t hear her. Jenny was the quietest talker in class and it was more frustrating than anything else.

“Jenny, I love you but you have to speak up. People can barely hear you.” She nodded and tried harder. 

“I liked the way they backwards talk father to son!” She said, trying her best to be heard. “I really got the sense that they are using TV to model their behavior in a screwed up way. The images sitcoms present to us of- of American life. It’s- it’s kind of post-modern! I, um, I liked it is all. I like how in just that small excerpt you can really see how their relationship is going to be complicated.” Veronica looked back and smiled at her. Jenny was nice, if mousey. She wrote poetry. They’d been in so many of the same classes since starting at Monroe it seemed odd they never became friends. A part of her wonders what would have happened if they had become real friends in freshman year instead of her pledging. But she knew the real reason she hadn’t made friends with Jenny. Jenny sat alone and quiet in the back, she just wasn’t somebody the sun shined on and after the few weeks of being alone she had been too scared of that rubbing off on her. She chose to pledge to have a more exciting life. Veronica could hit herself. Look at how that choice had worked out.

“Very astute. And this assignment is also about recitation. That I think you did with aplomb Ms. Sawyer. It was well articulated, you stood up well, and you stood by your work even though it hadn’t been re-written and critically appraised yet. I give you praise for trying that out with a fresh piece. Four points.” Veronica breathed out, relieved. The assignment was worth four points and she earned them.

The class continued and she had her fifteen minute break before the non-fiction class began. It went by well and after all the students had cleared out she sat down with Professor Alden to discuss her works.

“What is that piece from? The one you read from today?” She asked curiously. 

“Um, just a book I’m working on,” Veronica said nervously. 

“Okay. Pitch it. We talked about that in class today. Pitch me the book.” Veronica swallowed. 

“Okay, well. It’s a high school story. About the way people react to tragedy in high school. Death and stuff. The main character also falls hard for the wrong kind of guy.”

“Ah, love a good bad boy meets a good girl romance story.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Only, she’s not that good and he’s bad for her. Like, really bad. Psychotic actually. In the end he takes her to hell, and she tells him to get out of her life. And…” she said, her memories coming back to her, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “He listens to her. He blows himself up in front of her on the steps of their high school. She lights her cigarette on it.”

“Woah. Rock and roll. Seriously, good imagery.”

“It’s still rough,” she added quickly. “I just have a bunch of chapters, sections written. I have a hard time outlining and going in order. I just write what scenes pop into my head.” She worried about what to include or not include. She didn’t want anyone in Sherwood to start piecing too many dots together. It was so wild though and if the reactions of her professor and classmates any indication everyone would assume it was fiction. 

It was a good story. Veronica knew it needed to be told. She had gone through hell, and managed to get her soul back from all of it. And yes, she at least deserved a best seller out of that. 

“No, obviously. I like it so far though. I was raised on so much cookie cutter teen stuff. Same as you I imagine. I’d love to see something different, something that really sticks it to the John Hughes set. I like those two characters of yours. What’re their names?”

“Rebecca,” she told her. “Becky sometimes. And Eric.”

“That’s good. Starts out you think he’s the cool hot rebel guy, but really he’s just psycho? Great idea. Especially from a female perspective like yours. Too many hip young men out there. Time we get a hip your lady speaking. Keep me updated on that one.” Veronica nodded. Her professor pulled out the portfolio. “Otherwise, I’m liking the rest of these pieces. I think you’ve got a good shot for some internships this summer. Fill out the applications, and tell me if you need any letters of recommendation. I’m absolutely in your corner.” Veronica relaxed. She checked the clock and gathered her stuff. “Yuck. Looks like we gotta motor. The newspaper meeting is starting soon.” Her professor realized the same too. They laughed and both made their way to the third floor of the building and into the bullpen of the Monroe Bugle, publishing consistently since the opening of the school in 1859. John Envers was the reigning senior editor-in-chief and Veronica was currently writing about clubs and student life. It was a shit beat and she knew it. It’s why she’d been working on better. A lot better.

Veronica sat down at the long table with the rest of the staff of the Bugle. It was chilly and she put her sweater on over her shoulders as sat down next to Billy who wrote the theater and film reviews. He had a scathing one to print in this edition of the Monroe Players rendition of Brigadoon.

“Brig-a-snooze is more like it,” he told her, enjoying his puns. “Gene Kelly, Mike Campton is not. Poor Gina Reynolds? Ugh, I don’t know what accent she thought she was doing but Tom Cruise in _Far and Away_ could give her dialect coaching.” Veronica laughed. She loved his sense of humor. “How’s that investigative piece on tuition meetings?” He asked, genuinely interested. 

“Fine,” Kirk Chambers spoke for her. “Was able to get a source on the inside. Just handed my piece on it to John this morning,” he rubbed in. Veronica stewed. She had been the one to pitch the idea, she had wanted to publish it.

“Excellent work,” she sucked it up and told him. “Just glad someone got to the bottom of it. Bit shitty how they handle the tuition hike meetings.”

“Yeah, you were right,” he added smugly. “They were totally having those meetings behind closed doors.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for the tip.” She wanted to smack him, but she pulled herself together. Kirk was a dick, true, and had his own op-ed column but-

“Still won’t be as well read and talked about as the Greek Tattler,” Billy quipped, to Veronica’s defense. Kirk narrowed his eyes.

“The gossip column? Yeah, well, that’s people for you. They never really respect professional integrity.”

“It’s more than a gossip column,” Katie Ivers— sports writer— added. “She really does a good job of pointing out the truth behind the allure of the Greeks.”

“Watch it everyone,” Joey Johnson added— in charge of selling the ad pages— “our own token sister, Miss Sawyer got a little mention this week.” There was some laughter at that.

Veronica knew better than to look upset about it, not with this crowd. “Whatever,” she laughed. “What’s the saying? Bad press is better than no press? I got no problems with her.”

“What? I heard everyone behind the Greek curtain was furious with her,” Katie asked. Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Well, not me,” she retorted. “She hasn’t lied about anything, or exaggerated. And the readers love it. I say live and let live.”

Kirk snorted. “It’s not real journalism though. And if she had real balls and professional integrity she’d use her real name. Not a _nom de plume,"_ he said as if he were the only one in the room who knew the expression.

“And lose her access?” Joey quipped back. “They’d ritualistically sacrifice her to their chosen god in their basement if they ever found her out.” 

“Seriously,” Katie said. “Besides, it’s high time those elites got knocked down. I, for one, am loving what she’s doing.” There were claps around the table.

“Okay, okay, let’s get down to business,” John called out. Everyone quieted down and they got through the all staff meeting in peace. 

It was strange, at the entire time she’d been at Monroe this really felt like home. More so than the Sigma house often enough. The trouble was she always felt split. They were two worlds that didn’t really mesh, and they were open to the disdain of the other. Somehow though Veronica had the ability to walk in both worlds at once. “All right. You all have your assignments, get to it,” he told them, concluding the meeting. “Oh, Veronica? Can I see you in my office for a moment?” Veronica snorted. By office, he meant the janitor’s station he turned into the editor’s “office” at the beginning of the semester. Seriously, this was the Monroe Bugle, not the Washington Post. John was that kind of guy.

There were a couple of whistles and “ooh’s” as she waited for the rest of the staff to leave but she laughed at them to keep up appearances. She’d been told before that John had a small thing for her, but she shrugged it off. That wasn’t what he was asking her to stay about, but it was better they think that then the truth.

“Sit down,” he told her as she shut the door. She sat in the chair in front of his cramped desk. “So… how’s my most popular columnist?” He asked. “By the way, good going throwing yourself in there. Keeps them off your trail.”

Veronica laughed. “Be even better if everyone knew it was me,” she admitted, though she agreed with Katie: it would lose her access. She had been writing the Tattler column all semester. She had privately pitched it to John at the end of last semester and he loved it. He loved having access to that world. He had worried she’d be outed as the only member of the paper with letters but Veronica had done an A+ job not letting it attach to her. 

“Look, when you got me the real pièce de résistance, okay? I want the full investigation into alumni connections and the greek system. A full on exposè on how the school lets the Greeks do whatever they want as it keeps the alumni money flowing.”

Or something. Veronica still hadn’t quite grabbed her angle. She knew there was a story there. “I’m still trying to crack it,” she admitted. “It’s tough. I told you from the beginning. I dislike a lot about the world but…”

“You’re still one of them. Still living the life.” Veronica shrugged.

“Pretty much. I don’t think abolishing them is the way, but some checks and balances. Maybe exposing the truth to freshmen before they get mixed up.”

“Seriously, this right here?” He held up her next piece. “The breakdown of personal expenses? I want this handed to every freshman on their way to the quad rush week. That’s insane! I had no idea it cost that much to be a member.” She sighed. She did. And she hated seeing how much of her student worker money furnished it. 

“Thanks. I agree. I wish I had known from the get go.”

“The big one. The big exposè though. That, I think, should close out the Tattler column. Do that at the end and I’ll attach your real name to it.” And when you’re ready to blow up your entire social world, Veronica realized. When it was out that it was her, it would really be the end.

“Got it,” she told him, blowing through it. 

“Hey, um, Veronica,” he said, a little sheepishly as she got her stuff together. “What, um, what are you up to tonight? We could talk more about this with pizza. Or something.” There it was: the pit in her stomach. He did have a small thing for her. She realized printing the piece about her and her sorta on again off again guy breaking it off again with her… it must have given him the motivation.

“Oh, um,” she stumbled, trying to figure out how to say no. Luckily she had an excuse. “I already promised some girls at the house I’d do pizza and gossip with them. You know I have to keep my foot in their world. Their good graces,” she added, hoping his love of having a popular column to publish would trump his want of a date.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Some other time though, maybe?” He asked hopefully. She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Yeah, some other time, maybe,” she agreed, even though she really had no intention of it, and headed out.

She let it all go as she made her way from the newspaper office to the library. She was glad for her quick four hours there. Not just for the money but for the mild comfort re-shelving books gave her. It was soothing putting them back where they belonged, not dealing with anyone. It was almost like meditation.

It was a good way for her to work a lot of her thoughts out. Also to work out her frustrations. Particularly in the way Kirk had totally routed out her scoop. The Greek Tattler thing was good, and yes, a real expose would be a great piece but that was still so far off. She had wanted at least one other personal coup first. Jerk couldn’t stand the idea of anyone other than him being top dog.

It also gave her free time to mull around her writing and story ideas for the book she was working on. The one that was based on her experiences. The one she was writing with JD in it. Well, Eric but… yeah, JD.

After the library it was the witch hunt meeting with Kim to deal with. She could feel her headache coming a mile a way. The thing was: Veronica knew. She knew she wasn’t living her life the way she wanted. Somehow it had happened again. The Sigmas? The Heathers? What was the difference?

 _The difference is you._ She reminded herself. _The difference was no JD_.

She thought back to her creative fiction class that morning. Starts out you think he’s the cool hot rebel guy, but really he’s really just psycho, she had pitched about the love story element. But then, why did a small part of her wonder what he’d make of this world? What he’d make of the life she had at Monroe college. Who was she kidding? JD existed in high school and he’d never understand college woes. Just like how he’d never understand adult woes, worrying about a mortgage, and the existential dilemmas of aging. Because he’d chosen to blow himself up at seventeen. He died young and left a pretty corpse. Well, no corpse actually. In truth all they had recovered of him was the finger she’d shot off in the boiler room. A sick part of her wondered if his father had buried the finger in a coffin, but she didn’t ask. No one knew if there was a funeral, his dad had fled town after so quick.

None of this mattered in truth though. He was dead and he couldn’t come back or have an opinion on anything anymore. Not like she wanted him to, of course. The way it ended was the only way it could have ended for the two of them.

It’s not like she missed him. When she had begun writing that story she knew she was going to have to nudge the locked box in her heart slightly open. That if she wanted to tell that story she’d have to open Pandora’s Box just a little. Just a little though, not so much that all of it got out. Just enough to write the great novel of her generation.

That night when she got back to her room after the mind numbing Sigma meeting she sat at her desk in her long white nightgown and opened her notebook. Her roommate was sleeping at her boyfriend’s, but she never minded when he sat at her desk with the small desk light to work on either way. She wanted to work on her book more. She looked down at the scene she wanted to pick up from. It was inspired from the “date” they went on after he discovered her on that awful double date with Heather Mac, Kurt, and Ram. 

At the time it had been one of the best nights of her life.

_She marveled at him as she clung to him on the back of his motorcycle, the wind whipping her hair. It was like they were flying, flying high above the rest of Sherwood. They didn’t wear helmets. Helmets? That was for peasants and ants. They were flying high above them all. The warmth of his back, the feel of him underneath her fingers combined with the purring of the motor between her legs promised of other things purring between them soon enough._

_Our love is God, he’d said to her. Our Love is God…_

She put her pen down and thought. How to approach unpacking that scene in her head to the page. It had been a wild night. They’d ridden up and down the highway, stopped for slushies, and ended up in some secluded wooded area where they ripped each other’s clothes off and boned uninhibited. They cuddled under a blanket made out of his long coat, watched the stars as he tenderly kissed her and he… told her jokes. He made her laugh. Told her she was his and that… thrilled her. 

The night had turned… normal. Nice. She couldn’t write her book and not put that scene in. He couldn’t be an unholy villain, he needed his few moments of humanity and she knew she would make sure to include the admission of what happened to his mother. Besides, that made it a better story all together. More ambiguous.

Should she also put that night in? 

The question was always rattling in her brain: did he actually love her? Care about her at all? He was a psycho, yes. He saw her as a partner in crime, yes… but was a psychopath incapable of love? She remembered reading about organized crime lords in one of her psychology courses last year. They talked about unrepentant mafia hitmen, but the FBI agents that watched them and caught them all said it was amazing. They could mercilessly kill their hits, cold blooded sociopath murderers with no remorse, the whole lot of them, no romantic Godfather nonsense, hands down, but when it came to their wives, their children, their mothers, their siblings… their love was wholehearted, complete. No matter what else about them that love was real.

Love, it seemed, was human. And regardless of one’s sanity or personality all people have the capability to do it. She got up and took out her yearbook. Quickly she flipped the pages to the end— the memorials— but didn’t linger on Heather, Kurt, or Ram, less she let the true guilt out of the box. The last one though. The small one, like an afterthought.

The picture they had used for his in memoriam was from his student ID, surely, the way he looked bored and uncaring but not in his usual manner, in the manner that only an institutional photo could ever look. 

_**Jason Dean** _

_**1972 - 1989** _

She stared long and hard at his handsome face, imagining his eyes lit with that particular glint, the cocksure smile. Our love is God, he had told her. Our love is God, indeed. And he meant that literally, he thought he could choose who lived or died. 

God, she could go for a slushie…

And a fuck. She reread her last bits and scratched out the legs stuff for being way too horny. She slapped her head. God Veronica, could you be anymore desperate for sex? You’ve got a vibrator you don’t need a dude. Don’t you think you’ve had your fill of fucked up partners in your life?

There were options you could call if-

_No. Definitely no._

She turned the light off and climbed back into her bed. She laid on her back and closed her eyes.

She couldn’t help it. Her body was warm and in the process of relaxing and calming her mind, she remembered that night in flashes, moments. His lips on her neck, her fingers running up and down his chest as she peeled his shirt off, the easy way he made short work of her bra, and the simple way she unbuckled his belt. They’d been so into it they’d barely had time to take his pants off before he plunged-

Fuck. She sighed and realized there wasn’t any going to bed unless she let this steam out. The body wants what the body wants- logic and common sense be damned. 

She reached under her pillow to find her electric lover and was glad for two things: one that her roommate was with her boyfriend and couldn’t hear the solo sounds, and two, well, that the energizer bunny keeps going until she gets coming.

* * *

**Snappy Snack Shack**

**2** **0 Miles Away**

**Two Hours Prior**

Carla Johnson was the only daughter of Craig Johnson, manager of the Snappy Snack Shack and Gass off Route 40. Before it was a Snappy Snack Shack and Gas it had been a family owned outfit her grandfather had started in the late 40s. Unfortunately, the time of mom and pop gas stations was ending. Her dad was lucky when 7/11 bought them out they let him stay as the manager. Carla was 18, and a student at state forty five minutes away, working her usual shift at the register inside. 

She heard the cycle pull up before seeing it. She loved men on cycles. They didn’t get a lot of them at their little podunk stop and she prayed he was under 40. If they did get a biker nine out of ten times he ended up being a weekend warrior pushing fifty and still living out their _Easy Rider_ fantasies at best, or one of the actual scary thugs from the local gang clubhouses not far from them at worst. Mostly truckers and stranded motorists that accidentally took the wrong turn off the interstate. 

When he was done filling it up he took his helmet off and walked into the convenience store. She watched him, with a hitched breath. He was gorgeous. _Be cool. Be cool._

He walked into the store and she couldn’t stop herself from staring. He had a long duster coat on and black pants and motorcycle boots. He grabbed some corn nuts, opened them up and started munching on them as he filled up a cherry Slurpee and threw a hot dog in the microwave. 

He walked over and handed her the money for the gas, food, and drink. “So, will that be anything else with that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Pack of Camels and a lighter.” She turned and got them and grabbed a random Bic from the stack. She told him the total and he handed over the money. In cash. All in cash. Carla was used to it, a lot of people who got gas at her stop were the types that wanted to go off the grid a bit. Ohh, maybe he’s a criminal. That’d be so bad ass.

“So, you headed far from here?” She asked, trying to not sound desperate. She couldn’t help it, he was certainly the hottest guy she’d ever seen ‘round these desolate parts. Black hair, dark eyes, and in jeans and a black shirt with a long black trench coat that only accentuated his tall, dark, and mysteriousness.

“Actually, I need some directions. I’m headed to Monroe University. That’s not far, right?”

“Monroe?” She asked, surprised. “Um, yeah, it’s like just down the highway about 45 minutes from here. Just take the turn at exit 8, there’s a sign.”

“Thanks,” he told her before flashing her a smile and heading out the door. She nearly swooned herself to death, even his voice was hot.

He got back to his bike, finished his slush before tossing it in the trash. He opened up his side bags, making sure his trundle with some clothes and toiletries was still affixed and threw the extra snacks inside, making sure his pistol and bullets were still there too.

_So, Monroe College was only a forty-five minute drive from here, huh?_

_Perfecto_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who that was at the end. I just couldn't tell. Lol.
> 
> Anyway, comments would be great cuz as I said... I'm on the fence with this but I just don't know.


End file.
